


Dream

by prosperjade



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, yumikuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 09:53:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosperjade/pseuds/prosperjade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christa muses Ymir's proposal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream

Christa traced the familiar patterns of weathered specks etched into her lover’s skin, careful not to wake Ymir as she slept. There was scarce chance for peace in a world that festered with terror and delusional boasts of vengeance. The former heiress would allow this silence to indulge her sense, to lull her into false pleasure that would veil the throes of war. Warmth permeated her bones. Affection staved away the chill of her flesh as her features suffused in a shy scarlet.

“Ymir.” Christa called softly, the bow of her mouth turning with the sensation of her lover’s name settling on her eager tongue, poignant with the familiar taste of bitter ash.

The older woman turned with a subtle moan of protest. Her embrace coaxed her lover flush against the cradle of her figure, swathed in the beckoning scent of jasmine. “What?” Ymir mumbled, her query weighted with exhaustion.

Christa’s teeth drew to her lower lip. Her brow furrowed as the older woman’s abrupt vow of marriage resonated in her mind. She recalled the words with an aching cacophony of nausea and fondness. Doubt refusing to allow her wayward mind to nurture a vision of an embroidered dress with fabric of the purest white, Ymir beaming beside her.

“What if this isn’t over until were old?” Christa asked. She cursed the tremble of her voice that belied the turbulent thoughts her feeble mind harbored. Shame bowed her head.

Ymir gave a low, horse chuckle. Her forehead met the plane of her lover’s as her mind was swept within the churning azure of her lover’s eyes. “We’ll get married when we’re old, then.” She murmured, tender fingers roving the expression that brimmed with youth. Ymir nearly scoffed at the idea of age, of time etching creases into her lover’s porcelain skin.

She could only pray they’d live so long.

“What if this is over tomorrow?” Christa asked. The scarce pitch of her voice lured her lover’s ear. Gasps danced across the canvas of flushed skin painted with the mosaic of a restless night indulging in the primal nature of sheer mortality.

Ymir smiled. She shut her eyes as she stifled the protests of her sense that lingered on her tongue, allowing the transparent frivolity of hope. “Then we’ll get married tomorrow.” She answered simply.

Desperation compelled Christa’s grip to tighten around the flourish of her lover’s waist. “What if this is never over?” she mused, the beacon of a dawn she would one day wake to with freedom tainted by the acrid smoke that engulfed her memory.

“It will be.” Ymir insisted firmly. Calloused palms cradled her lover’s face. The solemn bow of her mouth lingered against Christa’s drawn brow. “Some day.”


End file.
